


Dark Before Dawn

by orphan_account



Category: Keeper of the Lost Cities Series - Shannon Messenger
Genre: F/M, Human AU, I wanted to do a large fic, I will probably add more tags, Keefe is a "bad boy", Sokeefe - Freeform, This isn't finished, and characters, and going, and ships, but then it kept going..., it isn't finished ok, probably about 20-25 chapters, so now its chapters!, this was going to be a oneshot, what a dork, what better ship to do it with, yay...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:34:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25324717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Her heart was beating so fast now it felt like her chest was being squeezed. Her lungs weren’t expanding like they should. She yanked on the chains wrapped around the handles of the front door. Pulled them with all her might. “Let me out!”A voice in the back of her head told her to calm down before she made this worse. Everything was fine. So she was stuck alone in a library, but she was safe. She could read and jog the stairs and stay busy. There were plenty of distractions here.In her new quiet state, She heard something behind her. Footsteps on wood.Sophie whirled around, pressing her back to the door. That’s when she saw a shadowy figure on the stairs, a metal object glinting in his right hand. A knife. She wasn’t alone after all. And she definitely wasn’t safe.{DISCONTINUED}Sophie Foster is trapped in a library. With no way to escape. Alone. she doesn’t think things could get any worse. But that’s before she realizes that Keefe Sencen is locked in with her.
Relationships: Sophie Foster/Fitz Vacker, Sophie Foster/Keefe Sencen
Comments: 13
Kudos: 58





	1. Trapped

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally going to be a one-shot, but it just evolved into whatever this monstrosity is.  
> Love the concept and the characters, feel free to leave advice!
> 
> This story is not done, so there will probably be lots of editing in the near future, so expect more to come!
> 
> Also, this story was originally written in the first person, but after reading it over, I decided to switch it to the third person. While doing that, I might have missed a few spots when I was replacing words, so I apologize if some of the perspectives don't line up.

Sophie was locked in the library. Literally locked. As in, no escape. Every door, every window, every air vent. Okay, she hadn’t tried the air vents, but she was seriously considering it. She wasn’t desperate enough… yet. Her friends would realize what had happened and they’d come back and free her. She just had to wait.

It all started when she had to go to the bathroom. Well, before that there had been a lot of soda- a two-liter of Dr. Pepper that Marella had smuggled into the library. She had drunk more than her fair share of the bottle when Fitz sat down next to her, smelling like trees and sky and sunlight every time he leaned over to ask her opinion.

It wasn’t until the windows darkened to black, the librarians asked them to leave, and they made it all the way to the underground parking garage where the eight of them were dividing into two cars that she realized she wasn’t going to make it down the street, let alone all the way to the canyon campfire.

“I have to pee,” she announced after she had plopped her bag into Fitz’s trunk. Biana rolled down her window. Her car, parked next to her brothers, was already running. “I thought you were coming in my car, Sophie.” She gave Sophie a knowing smile, she knew about Sophie's crush on her brother, and that Sophie wanted to go with Fitz.

Sophie smiled back at her, “I’ll be right back. There is no toilet at the bonfire.”

“There are a lot of trees,” Fitz said, rounding the car and slamming his trunk shut. It echoed through the nearly empty garage. In his car, Sophie could see two heads in the backseat and one in the front. No. They all beat her to it. Sophie would have to go with Biana after all. No big deal, she’d have plenty of time to talk to Fitz at the bonfire. It wasn’t in her nature to be bold in her declarations of undying affection, but with her limbs all jittery from nearly two liters of caffeine and Biana’s warning about Linh stealing Fitz out from under me buzzing in her head, she felt powerful.

Sophie rushed back down the long hall, up the stairs, and through the glass walkway that overlooked a courtyard. When she made it to the main floor of the library, half of the lights were already out.

The library was too big and needed more bathrooms, she decided by the time she made it there. Pushing open the heavy doors, she quickly found a stall.

As she was zipping up her pants, the lights went out. Sophie let out a yelp, then laughed,“ Funny, guys.” Dex, One of her friends, had no doubt found the breaker. It seemed like something he would do.

The lights remained out though, and no laughing followed her scream. They must’ve been on motion detectors. She waved her hands. Nothing. inching forward, she felt along the wall for the door, trying not to think about all the germs clinging to it. Sliding her hand around the handle, she swung the door open. A streetlight shone from an upper window, so she was able to see just enough for a thorough hand washing. It was an eco-friendly bathroom, meaning only air dryers. She wiped her hands on her jeans, opting for speed over the most inefficient way to ever dry hands.

Out in the hall, only a few random overhead lights illuminated the way. The place was completely shut down. Sophie picked up the pace. The library at night was creepier then she had thought it could be. The ten-foot-long enclosed glass hallway sparkled as snow began to fall outside. She didn't linger like she was tempted to. Hopefully, the snow wouldn't affect the bonfire. If it stayed light, it would be magical. A perfect night for confessions. Fitz wasn’t going to freak out when she told him, would he? No, he’d been flirting with her the entire night. he’d even picked the same era she had for the history essay. Something that Sophie didn’t think was a coincidence.

As for the cabin with the girls after the bonfire, the snow would be perfect. Maybe they would get snowed in. That had happened once before. At first, it had stressed her out, but it ended up being the best weekend ever- hoot chocolate and tubing and ghost stories.

Sophie reached for the door to the parking garage and gaze at the metal bar a shove. It didn’t budge. She pushed it a second time. Nothing. “Fitz! Dex! You’re not funny!” Sophie pressed her nose against the glass, but as far as she could see, both ways there were absolutely no cars or people. “Biana?”

Out of habit, she reached into her pocket for her cellphone. Her hand only met the empty pocket of her jeans. She’d put her weekend bag with all of her stuff- cellphone, clothes, jacket, purse, snacks, medication- in Fitz's trunk.

No

Sophie ran through the entire library, searching for another way out. A way that apparently didn’t exist. Six doors to the outside and they were all locked. And so there Sophie was -back leaned up against the door to the parking garage, it's cold seeping into her skin- stuck in a big empty library, caffeine and anxiety battling it out in her body.

A heart fluttering panic worked its way up her chest and took her breath away. Calm down, She told herself, They’ll be back. There had just been too many people getting into too many different cars. They all thought she was with someone else. Once the cars reached the bonfire, someone would notice she wasn’t there and they’d come back.

Sophie calculated how long that would take. Thirty minutes up the canyon, thirty minutes back. She'd be here for an hour. Well, then they’d have to find someone with a key to open this door. But that wouldn’t take much longer. They’d all have phones. They could call the fire department if they had to. Okay, now she was getting dramatic. No emergency departments would have to be called.

Her pep talk helped. This was nothing to get worked up about.

She didn’t want to leave her post for fear her friends wouldn’t see her when they came back. Or that she wouldn’t see or hear them. But without her phone, she had no way of passing the time. Sophie started humming a song very badly, then laughed at her effort. Maybe she’d just count the holes in the ceiling panels or . . . She looked around and came up empty. How did people pass the time without cell phones?

“. . . skies are blue. Birds fly over the rainbow.” Sophie’s singing wasn’t going to earn her a record deal anytime soon, but that hadn’t stopped her from belting out a few songs at the top of her lungs. She stopped, her throat raw. It had been at least an hour.

Her butt was numb and the chill from the floor had crept up her body, causing her to shiver. They must turn the heat down on the weekend. Standing up, she stretched. Maybe this place had a phone somewhere. She hadn’t thought to look until now. She’d never had to look for a phone. She always had her phone with her.

For the seventh time that night, Sophie walked back through the glass walkway. Everything was white now. The ground was covered in snow, the trees frosted with it.

She started in the entryway, but couldn’t find a phone anywhere. There might have been one in the locked office, but a big desk blocked her view. Even if she could see one, obviously she didn’t have a key. Past a set of double glass doors was where half the books lived. The other half was behind her in the children’s section. It was darker in there, and Sophie lingered by the doors for a while, taking in the space before her. Large, solid shelves filled the center, surrounded by tables and seating areas.

Computers.

Along the side wall were computers. Sophie could send an email or a direct message.

It was even darker once she stepped all the way inside. Some table lamps were spread throughout the area as she reached under the shade of one to see if they were for decoration or if they actually worked. It clicked on with a warm glow. By the time Sophie made it to the computers, She had turned on three lamps. They did little to dispel the darkness in such a large space, but they created a nice ambiance. She laughed at herself. An ambiance for what? A dance party? A candlelit dinner for one?

Sitting down in front of a computer, she powered it on. The first screen that lit up in front of her was a prompt to enter the library employee's username and password. She groaned. Luck was not on her side tonight at all.

She heard a creaking noise above her and looked up. She won't know what she thought she’d see, but there was nothing but darkness. The building was old and probably just settling in for the night. Or maybe it was the snow or wind hitting an upper window.

Another noise from above had her walking quickly to the hall. Jogging up the stairs she reached the front door. Sophie pulled the door as hard as she could. The doors stayed firmly closed. She looked through the narrow side window. Cars drove by on the main avenue in front, but the sidewalks were empty. No one would hear her if she pounded on the glass. Sadly she knew this, having tried earlier.

Sophie was fine. There was no one in the library but her. Who else would be dumb enough to get trapped in a library? All by themselves. With no way out. Distraction. She needed a distraction. She had nothing with her, though.

Books! This place was full of books. She would grab a book, find a faraway corner, and read until someone found her. Some might’ve even considered this scenario a dream come true. She could consider it that too. There was power in thoughts. This was her dream come true.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Sophie startled awake, and it took her several moments before she remembered where she was—trapped in a library. The book she had picked out to read rested open on her lap and her head had flopped onto the armrest of the chair. Her neck screamed at her as she sat up. Sophie rubbed at the knot there. A clock on the wall above the checkout desk read two fifteen.

Why wasn’t anyone worried about her? Searching for her? Maybe they were. In the wrong places. Had they all thought she went to the bonfire? That she decided to go home from there?

Her parents were going to kill her. It was never easy talking them into letting her spend the weekend up at the cabin with the girls. She’d had to negotiate hard. Her mom was a lawyer and way too good at making her see things her way, so she always went to her dad first. Plus, he worked from home (Creating the perfect tagline or jingle for your business. His words, not hers.) so he was the one available to take requests. Once she had him on her side they could normally convince her mom together. The negotiation had gone something like this:

“Dad, can I go up to Biana’s cabin this weekend?”

He spun his desk chair around to face her. “Which one sounds better? ‘Tommy’s, because every day is a donut day.’”

“Ooh. Every day is a donut day. I haven’t had mine today yet.”

He held up his finger. “Or. ‘Tommy’s, they’re hot and fresh.’”

“Who’s hot and fresh? That sounds like you’re talking about a house full of frat boys or something.”

“You’re right. I need the word donuts in there, don’t I?” He spun back around in his chair and typed something into his computer.

“So? Can I go this weekend?”

“Go where?”

“Biana’s cabin.”

“No.”

She wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on his shoulder. “Please. Her parents will be there, and I’ve done it before.”

“The whole weekend seems a bit long for you.”

She gave him a smile while putting on her best pleading face. “I’ll be fine. I promise. I won’t go out at all next weekend. I’ll stay in and help around the house.”

“Your mom’s firm has a work dinner in a couple of weeks. If you can handle a weekend at a cabin, you should be able to handle that.”

Nothing could have sounded worse to her. But that’s what compromise was—giving up something for another thing you wanted more. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he said.

“I can go?”

“I’ll have to double-check with your mom, but I’m sure it will be fine. Be safe. Take your phone. Your rules for the weekend: no drinking, no drugs, and call us every night.”

She kissed his cheek. “Those first two might be hard, but I can definitely handle the third.”

“Funny,” he said.

Call them every night. She hadn’t called them tonight. She wouldn’t call them tonight. That would put him in full dad mode. He’d call her friends. If they hadn’t understood why she wasn’t there before, they’d understand that somewhere along the way she’d gotten left behind. Someone would put two and two together. Sure, her parents would never let her leave the house after this again, but at least someone would find her.

Her head ached, so she found her way to the drinking fountain outside the restroom. At least she had water. And nothing else. Nothing else. She shook her head. Those were the wrong thoughts. Someone was going to find her soon. If not tonight, then in the morning, when the library opened. She couldn’t remember what time the library opened on Saturday mornings. Ten? Eight more hours. Easy.

It was getting colder in the building. She found a thermostat box on the wall, but it was locked. This place sure seemed overzealous about their security.

In the distance, She could barely make out a steady beat. There was music coming from somewhere. Sophie ran to the front door and saw a group of people walking by on the sidewalk, laughing. They held a phone or iPod or something that was glowing in the darkness and playing music loud enough for her to hear. She banged on the glass and yelled. Not one of them turned or paused. Not one of them looked around like they even heard the hint of noise. She banged again and yelled louder. Nothing.

“Listening to music too loud damages your hearing,” Sophie grumbled, resting her forehead against the glass. That’s when she saw a white paper below her, taped to the window. She peeled it off and read the front. The library will be closed starting Saturday, January 14, through Monday, January 16, in observance of Martin Luther King, Jr. Day.

Closed for the entire weekend? All three days? She’d be stuck here for three more days? No. she couldn’t do this. she couldn’t be in a huge building alone for three days. This was her worst nightmare.

Her heart was beating so fast now it felt like her chest was being squeezed. Her lungs weren’t expanding like they should. She yanked on the chains wrapped around the handles of the front door. Pulled them with all her might. “Let me out!”

A voice in the back of her head told her to calm down before she made this worse. Everything was fine. So she was stuck alone in a library, but she was safe. She could read and jog the stairs and stay busy. There were plenty of distractions here.

In her new quiet state, She heard something behind her. Footsteps on wood.

Sophie whirled around, pressing her back to the door. That’s when she saw a shadowy figure on the stairs, a metal object glinting in his right hand. A knife. She wasn’t alone after all. And she definitely wasn’t safe.


	2. Stranger

Sophie stayed as flat against the wall as possible. Maybe the person wouldn’t see her. No, that was unlikely, considering that seconds before she had been banging on the wall and pulling the chains on the door. She might as well have been screaming, I’m trapped in a library all alone and am desperate to get out!

What was her plan now? She could run somewhere. Lock herself in a room. Though as far as she knew all the rooms that had locks were already locking her out. Just when she was about to run somewhere, anywhere, to find a weapon or somewhere to hide, he spoke.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I didn’t know anyone else was here.” He held up his hands and then, as if just now realizing he held a knife in one, he bent down and tucked it into his boot.

That didn’t make her feel much better. “What are you doing here?”

“Just needed a place to stay.”

Great. She was trapped in the library with a homeless guy. A homeless guy with a knife. Her heart was in her throat.

Sophie could tell he was trying to talk in a calm voice, but it came out scratchy. “Let’s sit somewhere and talk. I’m going to get my bag. I left it at the top of the stairs. And then I’m going to come down. Okay?” His hands were still raised in front of him like that action should make her feel perfectly at ease. “Don’t call anyone until we talk.”

He thought she was going to call someone? If she had access to a phone, she wouldn’t be here. If she had access to any communication device—a bullhorn, a Morse code machine—she wouldn’t be here. But she wasn’t going to give away her hand. “Okay,” Sophie said.

The second he left her alone, she ran back down the stairs and past the glass doors. If he was armed, she wanted to be too.

Sophie tucked herself behind a shelf in the back stacks. Her breath was heavy and uneven and she couldn’t see a thing. She reached in front of her and grabbed the biggest book she could find. Worst-case scenario, she could hit him over the head with it.

“Hello?” he said from across the room.

“Don’t come any closer.”

“Where are you?”

“It doesn’t matter. You want to talk? Talk.” If she acted tough, maybe he’d think she was.

His voice became louder, clearer, so he must’ve been walking toward me. “There’s no reason to be scared of me.”

Why couldn’t he just stay across the room? They didn’t have to be within spitting distance to talk.

As she went to take a step back, her knee hit the shelf and a book slid to the ground with a thud. Sophie tightened her grip on the book she held and took off for the door. He was faster, though, and cut her off. She held the book over her head.

“Stop,” Sophie said.

He took a step closer. She threw the book at him. He dodged it. She picked up another from a nearby shelf and threw it. It hit his shoulder.

He held his hands over his head. “Really?”

“I already called the cops,” Sophie lied.

He cussed.

She threw another book. “So just leave me alone. They’ll be here any second.”

They were closer now, one of the lamps she’d turned on earlier glowing to their right. That’s when she realized she recognized him.

she gasped. “Keefe?”

“Do I know you?”

In relief, Sophie lowered the book she held. Keefe Sencen wouldn’t have been her first choice of guys she’d want to be locked in a library with. In fact, if she could choose any guy from her high school, he probably would’ve been the last. His reputation wasn’t exactly stellar. There were stories about him. Lots of stories. But he wasn’t a stranger. And she wasn’t scared of him, so she immediately relaxed. “You go to my school.”

Sophie wasn’t sure he knew her like most people at school did. She was on yearbook and was constantly snapping pictures so she was everywhere all the time. It was hard not to be well known when she had to be involved in so many events. But she’d never taken his picture. He wasn’t involved in anything. Well, at least not anything school-sponsored.

Sophie took a small step forward, into the soft glow of lamplight, so he could see her more clearly.

Recognition crossed his face as he took her in, from her shoulder-length light-blonde hair to her black wedge boots, then back up to her eyes. He didn’t seem to like what he saw. “Did you really call the cops?”

“No.” she ran her hands over her pockets. “I don’t have a phone.”

His eyes skimmed over her pockets as if he didn’t believe her, then he nodded once and headed toward the bag he’d dropped next to a chair.

Sophie followed after him. “Do you?”

“Do I what?” He unzipped his bag.

“Have a phone.”

“No, I don’t.”

Sophie stared at his bag, not sure he was telling the truth. “I just need to call my parents. They’re probably worried sick about me. Nobody knows where I am.” At least that’s what she was assuming since nobody had come back. “I would just use it to tell them where I am.”

He pulled a sleeping bag from his duffel and spread it on the floor. “I don’t have a phone.”

“But you’re not homeless,” Sophie said.

“I never said I was.”

“Why are you here?” she asked.

He crawled into his sleeping bag and then reached up and turned out the light.

“Why were you worried about me calling the cops anyway? Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“Can you keep it down? I’m trying to sleep.”

If her whole body didn’t feel like Jell-O she might’ve kicked him, but instead, she stumbled to a chair, sat down, and put her head on her knees. This shouldn’t have surprised her. Keefe was secretive at school, a loner—why would she expect him to tell her his life story now?

It didn’t matter. It was fine. she’d be fine. At least she’d established Keefe wasn’t trying to kill her or hurt her. Even though Keefe was . . . well, Keefe . . . it was better not being trapped here alone. And he had to have a phone in that big bag of his. He’d brought a sleeping bag, after all. When he went to sleep, she’d look through his stuff and find it. Now that she had a game plan she felt much better.

Her chest slowly relaxed, relieving her burning lungs. This was the weirdest thing that had ever happened to her. It might even be a funny story later. Much later, when she was home with her parents and in her own bed with her nice warm comforter.

It was cold in here.

Sophie stretched and then laid her head on the arm of the chair, pretending to go to sleep. She wasn’t sure if he could see her or if he was even watching, but she wanted him to think she was sleeping. Then, when she was sure he was out, she’d find his phone, call home, and this would all be over.

The clock on the wall read 3:20. Sophie’s eyes ached from being awake for so long. She wondered what her friends were doing. What Fitz was doing. she’d known Fitz since freshman year, the year she had transferred from California to New York, and liked him since junior year, and now, in her senior year, had decided it was now or never. they’d both be going away to school the following year, and before they left she wanted to see if the tension that hummed beneath the surface whenever he was around would translate into a good relationship.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The scene around her was hazy, blurry. The sensation was familiar, but her mind wouldn’t clarify what was going on. She was in a cold room with no windows or doors. It was like a big icebox. The second she thought it, the walls became slick with ice, the floor as well. Everything was covered in ice. Sophie’s teeth began to chatter so hard they hurt. And then a musky scent enveloped her. Like one of Fitz’s hugs. And then Fitz was there, hugging her. The ice room disappeared, replaced by an endless green field. They stood in the middle clinging to each other.

“I liked you all along too,” he whispered. “I don’t know why it took us so long to admit it.”

“Because I was scared,” Sophie said.

“Of what?”

What was she scared of? Letting someone close? Handing him the power to hurt her? Letting go of control? Possibilities don’t hurt as much as realities. Possibilities are exciting and endless. Realities are final. That had always held her back with Fitz, the thought that if she said how she felt and he didn’t feel the same way back, that would be it. There would be no more “what ifs,” no more “might bes,” no more dreaming.

Dreaming. That’s what this was. Just a dream. It was all just a dream. She needed to wake up now.

Sophie’s eyes fluttered open. Sun shone through the upper windows, lighting the room. Disappointment weighed heavy on her chest. She may have been dreaming, but being trapped in the library hadn’t been a dream. She was still here. Still stuck.

With Keefe. He was no longer lying on the floor. Where had he gone?

She sat up quickly and saw spots, the sleeping bag slipping off her shoulders as she steadied herself. His sleeping bag. He’d put his sleeping bag on her. She let it fall all the way to the floor and then stared at it lying there useless. She immediately missed its warmth.

It was eight o’clock and her stomach was tight from hunger. Nobody had come for her.

“Did that sleeping bag offend you?”

Sophie let out a short scream. Keefe sat in a chair across the room, his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles, a hint of a smirk ghosting his lips. He wore jeans and a long-sleeved black shirt. His blond hair was slightly damp and was drying in a thick wave. He had a shadow of growth along his jaw. He held an open book, propped against his chest. The position he was sitting in—one shoulder down farther than the other, the shadows playing on his face creating shapes of darkness, the contrast of the red book against his black shirt . . . something tugged in her stomach.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on a girl like that.”

“I didn’t move,” Keefe said, picking up the book from his chest and beginning to read it.

Sophie rolled her eyes,“ It was a joke, I just didn’t see you at first. Thanks . . . for the sleeping bag.” A chill went through her, betraying the fact that she still needed it.

She had been so thrilled with her outfit last night—a teal-green, flowy T-shirt, a cute tailored jacket, and a pair of jeans. But it had been warm in the library when they were working. Hot, even. For the hundredth time, she wished she hadn’t taken her jacket off and shoved it into her bag. Wished she hadn’t put her bag in Fitz’s trunk. Her bag. If she had that this whole thing would be over. Even without her phone, she would've had everything she needed to last the weekend.

Keefe gave a short nod, his ice-blue eyes flicking up to hers for a split second before darting back down to his book.

Sophie’s stomach growled. There had to be food in this place somewhere. The librarians had to eat lunch. A break room, maybe? Getting up from the chair, she stretched, starting towards the stairs. Keefe didn’t ask where she was going, and she didn’t expect him to, he didn’t exactly seem like the type to do that, especially considering the way he acted last night.

On the third floor, she found it—a kitchen. There was not only a fridge but two vending machines—one for soda, one for snacks. They were kind of cruel really, the food on display without any way of getting it. Sophie kicked the soda machine as she walked by, and thought about reaching up and trying to grab one from the wide slot below, but quickly dismissed that thought. she’d once read a story online where a guy had to be rescued by the fire department because he got his arm stuck in a vending machine.

The fridge, unlike every other thing in the library, was not locked. It was a huge catering fridge. She’d almost forgotten that people had weddings and events at the library. It really was a big, gorgeous building that had become her prison. She crossed her fingers and opened one of the doors. On the shelf in the middle was the corner of a sheet cake. She wasn’t even sure why anyone would save it—that’s how small it was. But she would gratefully eat it later.

Behind the next silver fridge door was a clear Tupperware container of who-knew-what, but Sophie could see the dark spots of mold clinging to the sides. Aside from that were two mystery paper bags. Sophie pulled out the first bag with the words DON’T EAT MY FOOD written on the outside in Sharpie and looked inside—an apple and a yogurt, which was over a week expired. Considering the warning on the outside, she had hoped for something more steal-worthy. She took the apple and left the yogurt for later. In the other bag were more Tupperware and a can of soda. She gingerly lifted out the plastic bowl and slowly opened the lid. No mold, but she also couldn’t tell what it was. Pasta? Vegetables? Smelling it didn’t help. That could wait. She took the soda and left the rest.

In the cupboards, Sophie found some coffee cups and split the soda into two. The drawers were free of real utensils, but she found a plastic knife. It immediately broke when she tried to cut the apple in half with it. She’d just eat half and hope Keefe wasn’t a germophobe.

Sophie washed the apple for thirty seconds under warm water, then took a bite. Nothing had ever tasted better. She found some napkins tucked away in a drawer, and when she had eaten her share, she wrapped up the remaining half, picked up the cups, and went back down the stairs to face Keefe again. If she could just get him to trust her, she wouldn’t need to sneak into his bag. He’d gladly hand over his phone to her. And he would. She was nice. People liked her. Keefe would too.


	3. Trust

The main library was bright during the day; plenty of windows brought in slanting rays of sunshine. Sophie carried the two mugs by their handles and held out one for him to take.

“You found coffee?”

“Coke close enough?”

He relieved her of one of the mugs as she held out the apple wrapped in a napkin.

“What is it?” he asked without taking it.

“It’s half an apple.”

“You found half an apple?”

“I found a whole apple. I ate half of it. I can eat the whole thing if—”

He plucked it from her still outstretched hand.

“You’re welcome.”

He raised his glass to her and shot her a grin, then took a chug, making her stomach do a flip. 

“One of the librarians must be an apple thief. The bag where I found it was owned by someone accustomed to having their food stolen. We have now added to the distrust.”

“I’m sure you’ll replace it later.”

“Maybe I will.” Sophie made her way back to the chair she had slept in. His sleeping bag still sat on the floor. She stared at it for a long moment really not wanting to have to use it, but the goosebumps on her arms were multiplying by the second, so she swallowed her pride and picked it up. She draped the sleeping bag over her shoulders and sat down, holding her mug between two hands, wishing there was a hot drink inside.

Once this soda was gone they could share a yogurt and some cake later and maybe a mystery dish. She could practically feel her stomach shrinking. Unless . . .

She looked at the big bag by Keefe’s feet.

When she glanced up, he was staring at her, his ice-blue eyes guarded. “What do you have in there?” Sophie asked.

He must’ve known exactly what she had been staring at because he answered, “Not much.”

“Food? If you were planning to stay the whole weekend, you must’ve brought something to eat.”

“I wasn’t planning on staying here the whole weekend.”

“Where were you planning to stay? Why did you end up here?”

“I was planning to stay somewhere else.”

She waited for him to clarify, but that was the extent of his answer. “You’re not a big talker.”

He closed the book and placed it on the table next to him, then leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Why are you here?” he asked instead, clearly dodging the question.

Sophie wanted to give him a snarky answer to compete with his response, like, ‘I wanted to eat stolen apples and read books all weekend.’ But she held her tongue. Maybe if he learned more about her, he’d realize she just wanted to leave. She wasn’t here to ruin whatever plan he’d had when coming here. “I had to pee.”

He leaned back and picked up his book again, as though she really had given him a fake answer.

“We were here, working on that history project Miss. Belva assigned. Did you do that yet?”

He must’ve realized she was actually answering his question because instead of opening his book he placed it in his lap and shook his head no.

“Anyway, we were here, a bunch of us, and we stayed past closing to finish our papers. Everyone was leaving, getting in cars, and then I had to pee.”

“Your friends left you?” Now his expression changed. He was surprised.

“There were two cars. Biana thought I was going with Fitz.”

“ Your boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend . . . yet. But anyway, Fitz’s car was full so he must’ve thought I went with Biana. But I was with nobody . . . obviously.”

“Obviously.”

“Are you making fun of me?”

“No. I’m confused.”

“About which part?” Sophie set her now-empty mug on the table next to her.

“About the part where they didn’t come back.”

“Well, that’s the part I’m confused about too.” Sort of.

“Some sort of hazing?”

“You think my friends were hazing me?”

He shrugged. “So it was an accident? They all accidentally forgot about you?” His face was contorted slightly like he was remembering something, but it was gone when she spoke.

“They wouldn’t do that. They must’ve thought I went home or maybe they didn’t realize this is the place they lost track of me and are looking for me somewhere else right now.” She’d already gone over a million theories about why they hadn’t come back for her, each one worse than the last. She’d had to stop before she drove herself crazy with worry.

He uncrossed his ankles and sat forward again. “Lost track of you?”

“I don’t know where they are. I don’t know why they didn’t come back. There’s a reason, and it’s a good one, and we’ll all laugh about it when I get out of here. We’ll laugh, and it will all make sense, and it will be a story I’ll tell forever. The time I got stuck in the library with the—”

Sophie stopped abruptly. her cheeks went hot and she looked down at her shoes. She wasn’t sure how she was going to finish that sentence but no option had been a good one.

He raised his eyebrows. “Finish. You were doing so good.”

“Sorry.”

“Why?”

“Never mind. That’s my story. What’s yours?”

“Mine?”

“Why are you here?”

He held up his book. “I wanted to read.”

“And eat stolen apples?”

Keefe smirked again, “Yeah, and eat stolen apples.”

Sophie cleared her throat, her face feeling hot,“ Do you not have many books at your house?”

“Not really, Well, unless you count the Good Book. But that’s mainly used to condemn me.” He ran a hand through his hair and didn’t continue. Like he had said too much.

But he hadn’t said anything. “Fine. You don’t have to tell me. When we get out of here we’ll go our separate ways.”

He sighed. “Speaking of. I’m not sure how you’re going to spin this when we eventually get discovered, but can we just tell our own stories? You go with the pee one, and I’ll let myself out when the doors are opened and go my own way.”

“I can’t tell people you were here?”

“You can do whatever you want. Tell your friends you were stuck here with the . . . whatever . . . but the librarians, the cops . . .”

“What about the cops?” Sophie asked, wrapping the sleeping bag tighter around her shoulders. “Why are they going to be involved?”

“If someone reported you missing, they will be involved.”

“What if someone reported you missing?”

“They didn’t.”

“Why not? Don’t you think your parents are worried about you?”

“No.”

“Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“No. I’m not. But I don’t want trouble.”

“You won’t get it from me.” At least that’s what Sophie was saying now while she was trying to earn his trust. And his phone.

Hopefully, his phone would be easier to get than his trust. Because she could tell his trust wasn’t something he regularly granted.

Sophie had heard lots of rumors about Keefe in the last 3 years. Marella, who prided herself on knowing everything about everyone, had told her the most, in rushed whispers anytime they would see him around at school. Apparently, his father abused him and his mother had left shortly after he had been born. Halfway through sophomore year, it was rumored that his dad kicked him out to be in foster care, though no one could ever prove it. He’d never acknowledged Sophie’s existence. Not that she cared. He was just another kid from school.

She could tell he didn’t want to acknowledge her anymore now than he had then by the way he looked at her. Did he even know her name? She realized he hadn’t said it once. She wasn’t sure how things would go down when they were finally discovered here, but it was in her best interest, for now, to tell him what he wanted to hear. “Nobody needs to know.”

He went back to reading with a small nod.

Sophie reached down and unlaced her boots. She’d been wearing them too long and the tops of her feet hurt. She slipped them off, wondering if it was a good idea. She was only wearing a thin pair of ankle socks and her feet immediately became cold. She pulled them up onto the chair with her and tucked them under the sleeping bag.

“There were vending machines in the kitchen but I don’t have any money . . . do you?”

He shifted in his seat, reached into his back pocket, and pulled out a wallet. He opened it and produced a single bill. She couldn’t tell from where she sat if it was a dollar or twenty or something in between. “I take it all your belongings somehow ended up in one of those two cars that left without you and hasn’t returned.”

“They’ll be back.”

Keefe smirked, “That’s all I have,” he said, pointing to the table where he’d dropped the bill and jolting her out of her thoughts, “Spend it wisely.”

Sophie shoved the thoughts out of her mind, they were her friends, they wouldn't abandon her. “I’m not hungry right now, so we can wait.”

“That half of an apple filled you up?”

“We’re on rations here. If we have to last until Tuesday, we need to space our few meals.” A yogurt, the cake, the Tupperware bowl of mystery, and whatever the money would buy us, that’s all they had for three days or until Sophie could find his phone. He’d leave his bag unattended at some point.

“Twelve hours trapped in a library and you’re already a survivalist.” he teased.

Sophie crossed her arms. “You seem to enjoy making fun of me.”

“I was being sincere. I mean, if ever in a real life-or-death situation, you’ve already learned how to throw books and scavenge for food.”

The books she had hurled at him the night before were in a messy pile behind him. She needed to clean those up. “Well, if you’re ever in a life-or-death situation you can read and dole out insults.”

“I’m reading about how to survive living with a rich girl for three days.”

Rich girl? He didn’t know her at all. Sure, her parents had money but they were annoyingly good at making her work for things. “Considering you don’t want me to tell anyone about you being here, you sure are good at making me want to do the exact opposite.”

He let out a huff of air. “I can tell by the way you look at me that you’re not going to keep your mouth shut. You’ve already figured me all out.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“Everything I need to know is written all over your face.”

“Right now the only thing my face should be conveying is that it thinks you’re a jerk.”

He bowed his head as if to say, exactly.

Sophie had never met anyone more frustrating. She couldn’t believe she still had three full days with him. She had to get out before then. She would get out before then. In the meantime, she didn’t have to sit here and be insulted.

Sophie made her way back to the glass hallway. The glass must’ve had some special coating on it, because it wasn’t fogged up at all, nor was there snow sticking to any of it. But there was snow everywhere else. She was surprised by just how much. It came all the way up to the low windows that she could see across the way. That was a lot of snow. Maybe this was why nobody was looking for her. Had everyone been snowed in at the cabin?

Her bag was in Fitz’s trunk. Didn’t Fitz realize she hadn’t made it up when he saw that? Maybe he hadn’t looked in his trunk. It was Saturday morning. He was probably still in bed. When he woke up and looked in his trunk . . . why would he look in his trunk? This was so messed up. Her hope of being rescued before Tuesday when the librarians reappeared was dwindling with every passing minute.

She couldn’t stand in this hallway much longer. It was freezing. She ran through and down to the door of the parking garage for another look. Nothing had changed. She was going to have to start doing laps in the library 

if it got much colder.

Not wanting to go back upstairs, she sat down in front of the door, imagining Fitz’s car pulling up, him stepping out, smiling at her through the glass as though this was all part of some funny joke. Everything in life was funny to Fitz.

“What are you doing?”

Sophie took a sharp inhale of breath as she shifted on the floor to look over her shoulder. “You seem to have a habit of sneaking up on people.”

Keefe was in the open doorway at the end of the hall, twenty feet away. “I called to you twice.”

“Oh. Well, I was thinking.” When he didn’t respond she added, “Did you need something?”

“There’s a TV in the break room. Thought you might want to know.”

“Break room?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t see a break room as I searched the library yesterday.”

“I guess you missed it, then. The TV only gets local stations, though.”

Sophie pushed herself into a standing position as he walked away. It was nearly noon. She wasn’t sure what played on local channels at this time, but she wasn’t going to turn down television. Sophie rounded the corner and jogged to catch up with him. “So, what? Soap operas?”

“It’s Saturday.”

Right. Not soap operas. Cartoons? Whatever it was, it was something. “You know the soap opera schedule well?”

“By heart,” he said straight-faced.

Next to the door, he approached was a small square electronic box. They’d need some sort of employee badge to open the door. Which they didn’t have. Keefe didn’t seem to care about that; he jiggled the handle a little and gave a hard pull and it swung open. How often had he stayed at the library, anyway? He seemed to know this place well.

“How’d you do that?”

“It’s an old building. Some doors are more pliable than others.”

She followed him in. “Which doors?”

“None to the outside.”

But what about other ones? Ones that might have phones in them? She’d have to try all the doors again later.

Keefe stopped in front of a vending machine. He surveyed the items on display behind the glass. Sophie went immediately to the fridge that she had not yet explored. She opened it and found nothing but old ketchup packets. Closing it with a sigh she joined him by the vending machine.

She still had no idea how much money he had. Would they get one bag of pretzels or five? She thought maybe they’d take a vote on what to get, but he slid his bill in the slot and began pushing buttons.

“I don’t have any food allergies,” Sophie said, her passive-aggressive way of telling him he wasn’t being thoughtful.

“Good,” was all he said back as a bag of chips dropped from its slot. He gave the machine a shake but nothing else jarred loose with the effort. On the digital screen it showed he had four dollars left. He pushed a couple more buttons and this time a Payday dropped. He repeated the shaking motion with the same result.

He retrieved his two items from the slot then stepped aside and gestured for me to make a selection. Oh. Had that been his plan all along? That we’d each get to pick a couple items?

“Thanks,” Sophie mumbled as she stepped up to check out her choices. “I’ll pay you back.”

“No need to.”

She settled on Cheez-Its and a Payday as well. She figured the peanuts were the closest thing in the machine to healthy and maybe filling. There was a dollar left, so Sophie stepped aside

Any preference?” he asked, taking in the selection.

Sophie shrugged. “Not really.”

“Anything you absolutely hate?” He said it with a smirk. 

Sophie raised her eyebrows at him and then smiled.

“No, whatever you want.”

He chose another Payday. Probably a good choice.

It was a small room, which Sophie thought it would mean it would be warmer than if it had been in the main part of the library. But it wasn’t. It was probably because a window, fogged with frost, took up a big portion of the back wall.

Keefe picked up the remote to a television that sat on a metal rolling cart. He handed it to her then left the room without a word.

Okay, guess he didn’t want to watch television, just quarantine her. She must’ve completely ruined his weekend. His weekend of what? Reading? Being alone in a big library? Maybe he’d planned on stealing something here and She’d ruined that. Did the library have anything to steal?

Sophie pointed the remote at the television and pushed power. she flipped through the channels—golf, tennis, cartoons, an old movie. She stopped there, sat on the couch, and opened the Payday.

“Was this the only choice?” Keefe asked, coming back into the break room. He now had on a sweatshirt and was carrying the red sleeping bag, which he plopped on her lap before sitting down on the opposite end of the couch.

She was so surprised that she stuttered out, “N-no,” and handed him the remote.

Keefe clicked through the channels, finally settling on a cartoon—Scooby-Doo. Sophie wrapped herself up in the sleeping bag. It smelled good, musky, and she wondered if that’s what Keefe smelled like up close. Then she wondered why she would wonder something like that.

They watched the cartoon in silence for several minutes before Sophie said, “You’d think after the thousandth time of the monster actually being a person in disguise that they’d check and see if he had a mask on first.”

“Then it would be a two-minute show.” A small smile played across his lips. Maybe he had a sense of humor in there somewhere after all. Buried deep. Maybe at the bottom of his duffel bag.

His bag. It was in the other room alone, unsupervised. He was just opening his candy, settling into the couch. He even put his feet up on the coffee table. Sophie had at least ten minutes. She made a show of stretching. She had taken two bites of her candy bar. She needed to save it for later anyway. Sophie tucked it back into its wrapper and set it on the table along with the Cheez-Its.

“I’ll be right back. Bathroom.”

“No need—”

“Right. You don’t want to know.” How hard was a simple okay? Sophie was used to telling people where she was going because she was always with a group, not that it had done me much good last night. Maybe he wasn’t used to having to report his whereabouts because he was always alone. Sophie looked over her shoulder as she reached the door. His focus was entirely on the television. This was perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone wondering why sometimes the perspective is weird, its because this was originally written in first person. After reading it over I decided that I didn't want it like that and switched it to the third person, however, I might have missed some spots when I went over it again. I apologize.


	4. Poker

When Sophie got to the library section, Keefe’s bag wasn’t where she’d seen it last. Had he hidden it? But then she realized he’d just tucked it under the chair. Sophie rushed forward, knowing she didn’t have a lot of time, and squatted down. The black handle stuck out so she gave it a tug. It was wedged a little and it took her a couple of good yanks to free. She listened carefully to make sure she didn’t hear him coming.

Undoing that zipper was the loudest five seconds of her life. It seemed to echo through the whole room as she held her breath. Once it was open Sophie glanced over her shoulder to make sure she was still in the clear. She was. The bag contained everything an overnight bag might: toiletries (She was going to kill him for not telling me he had toothpaste), extra clothes, socks, a couple of protein bars (was he planning to share those?), and finally, finally, at the bottom of the bag she found what she was looking for. A phone. It was an old flip one and when she opened it the screen was dark.

She wasn’t sure how to turn it on. She held down the side button for a few seconds. Nothing happened. So she tried the button with a picture of a green phone on it. Still nothing.

“Really?” Keefe said from behind her.

Sophie twirled toward him, still in her squatting position, and immediately lost her balance and fell on her butt. His phone was now held out in front of her in plain sight.

“You have a phone,” Sophie said. “I’m stuck here and you have a phone.”

“You went through my things?” It was a question but the anger in his voice made it more of an accusation.

“I had to, because you told me you didn’t have a phone, but you really do. I just want to call my family. I’m sure they’re worried about me.”

“Go ahead.” He pointed to the phone.

Was this some sort of a trick? She looked at the black screen again. “I can’t turn it on.”

“Exactly.” He plucked it from her hand, shoved it back into his bag, and zipped it up.

“What do you mean exactly? Can you turn it on for me?”

“No, I can’t. It has no minutes and no charge.”

“Oh.” Sophie still sat on the floor and was too deflated to get up. “Well, that’s not very helpful.”

“You know, before coming here, I forgot to think about you and your needs.”

“Why would you pack a dead phone? Is the charger in there?”

“You tell me.”

“Why did you follow me down here, anyway?”

“Because you left the room looking guilty, like you were about to commit a crime.”

“You know that look well?”

“Stay out of my things.” He said it low and barely audible.

“I’m sorry for going through your stupid bag. I just want to get out of here. My family is probably worried sick about me. Isn’t your family worried about you?”

“No.”

“I’m sure they are. Did you run away?”

“No.”

“Then what? You just left? They’re okay with you just leaving for the weekend? Spending the night in empty libraries?”

“They let me come and go as I please, and I don’t turn them in for the weed they grow in the basement. It works out well.”

Sophie was stunned silent for a moment. She had heard his foster mom was a druggie, but it was hard to know what was rumor and what was fact. “Your parents grow weed in the basement?”

“My foster parents. Just forget I said that.”

For some reason she was more surprised that it was his foster parents than she would’ve been if it were his real parents.

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s perfect. Best situation I’ve had yet.”

Best situation he’d had yet? “I’m so sorry.”

“Why? I have freedom. I’m sorry for you and your pathetically predictable life.”

“Maybe I’m sorry because it’s turned you into a total jerk.”

“Better than a naïve, spoiled priss.”

Sophie let out a frustrated sigh. There was that word again. Why did she even try? She was not one of those girls who needed to fix broken boys. Sophie stood up and started to walk away, but before she got too far, she marched back to his bag, opened it up, and said, “I’m borrowing your toothpaste.”

His face was one part shock and one part anger when she left again, toothpaste in hand.

When Sophie got to the bathroom she leaned her back up against the cold tile wall and covered her face with her hand. He didn’t have a phone, the only thing that had given her any hope. She really was officially stuck here.

As her breath hitched she reminded herself to focus on the good things. She had toothpaste. And a TV. she could work with that.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

As the movie credits rolled up the small screen in the break room, a memory worked its way into her mind. A couple of weeks ago a group of them had gone to the movies. Fitz, the first of our guy friends to arrive, had stepped over and around a whole row of people to sit next to her. “Is this seat saved for Biana?” he’d asked.

It was. “No,” Sophie said, just as Biana came in the door and saw her seat taken. Sophie looked at her over his shoulder and she just smiled. Sophie owed her one.

“So it was saved for me, then?”

“We’ll go with that,” Sophie said, stealing a handful of his popcorn.

“First one’s free,” he said.

“Oh, really. And how much for another handful?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Why don’t you find out?”

She hadn’t followed through but changed the subject. “Where are Dex and everyone?”

Before Fitz could answer, Dex and the others came in, laughing.

“My uncle is going to kill you,” Tam said, trying to flatten his black hair. “I was grounded.”

“That’s why we kidnapped you,” Dex said. “You get to blame us when he gets mad now.”

Tam was still smashing his hair down. “Was the pillowcase necessary?”

Fitz laughed, and she glanced his way. “You didn’t want to go with them to kidnap Tam?”

He shrugged. “I wanted to get here early.”

What was wrong with her? She thought now, clicking off the television. Whenever she was away from Fitz, outside of their interactions, she could easily pick up on all the signs. But whenever she was near him, it was like her brain short-circuited and she couldn’t tell if he liked her or not. She needed to stop thinking so much. If she hired her dad to assign her a tagline for her life, that would probably be it—Get out of your head. Or It’s not as bad as your brain makes it seem. But those simple slogans were way easier said than done.

Sophie tried to force herself to go to sleep. She was tired. Her shoulders ached, her eyes throbbed, her head pounded. A nap would help. But it had been a couple of hours since her fight with Keefe, and she felt bad for calling him a jerk again. She didn’t fight with people. She’d never called anyone a jerk. Sophie hated conflict, but he seemed to bring it out in her. But with the next two days looming ahead, cold and lonely, she knew she needed to try harder to get along with him.

Sophie was going to have to suck it up. His foster parents grew drugs in the basement of his house. That was bad enough, but she couldn’t ignore the second part he’d said either. The part about how they let him come and go as he pleased. It did sound like freedom, but didn’t it really mean they didn’t care about him, only the money housing him brought in. She had a feeling, despite his flippant attitude about it, that he suspected that as well.

As she laid there staring at the coffee table in front of her, she noticed a little drawer. Sophie reached forward and slid it open. A single deck of cards sat inside. She picked it up and turned it over and over again in her hands. It took her five minutes to talk herself into doing what she knew she needed to do.

She made her way downstairs. It was still light outside, and would be for another few hours. It really was warmer on this floor. Warm was the wrong word, actually; less cold was the better descriptor. Keefe sat exactly like he had earlier. Only this time his left hand propped up his head. She could see a tattoo on his wrist but she wasn’t close enough to make out what it was. He looked at her over the top of his book as though expecting her to say something.

Hey,” was her lame response.

When she didn’t say anything else, he went back to reading.

Saying hi wasn’t why she’d come down here. She forced the next words out. “I found a deck of cards.”

He looked at the deck Sophie had begun twisting in her hands again.

“Um . . . you want to play?”

“What game?” he asked.

She felt like if she gave the wrong answer he’d say no. “I don’t care. Whatever you want.”

He sighed. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?”

“You know what.”

She did know what. She felt sorry for him, and he could read it all over her face just like he’d read her disgust and fear of him the night before. Just like he knew she was going to go through his bag earlier. Was she really that transparent?

“Treat me like you always have.”

“And how is that?” As far as she knew, before last night she hadn’t treated him like anything.

“Ignore me. Two more days and you’ll jump back on that train anyway. You might as well stay in the habit.”

The words felt like a punch to the gut. “That’s unfair. I didn’t know you. You didn’t want to be known. And I’d say you have it backward. You’re the one who does the ignoring. You don’t even know my name.”

That last sentence must’ve caught him by surprise, because for the first time his hard expression dropped and he met her eyes. Without his guard up he looked younger—soft ice-blue eyes, wavy blond hair, a vulnerable look on his face. “Sophie Foster.”

Now it was her turn to look surprised. She could’ve sworn she was right about that. The sudden change in energy knocked the fight out of her. “Just play a stupid game with me. I’m bored.”  
He didn’t move.

“I’m relentless.”

He smirked a little. “More like annoying,” he said, but he stood anyway, and they walked to one of the large oak tables.

She sat opposite him and opened the deck of cards. She shuffled them then passed them out, five each.

“What are we playing?” he asked.

“Poker. Five-card draw.” Her dad had guys’ nights at there house, and sometimes he’d let her sit in if a player didn’t show. He’d even sneak her some cards and help her win a few rounds. She was sure everyone knew he did it, but it made them laugh.

“Okay.” Keefe picked up his cards, his air of confidence gone.

Maybe he was upset about his hand. She picked hers up as well. She had a pair of threes, an ace of spades, a king of hearts, and a two of clubs. Basically nothing. Should she keep a low pair or hope for another king or ace by trading in three cards?

“Do you want to trade any?” Sophie asked.

“I . . .” He studied his hand again. “Am I trying to get the same suit or make pairs?”

Sophie could feel her mouth drop open before she could stop it. He didn’t know how to play poker? “You don’t know how to play?”

“Obviously.”

“Okay.”

“It’s not that shocking.”

“It sort of is,” Sophie said with a laugh. “Um . . .” She’d never had to explain it before. “There are several versions of poker but this one is called a five-card draw. We each get five cards.”

“Hence the name.

She smiled. “Right. And then you can trade in up to three of those cards for three more from the stack.”  
“Do I have to trade?”

“No. Each hand is valued differently. The best hand is called a royal flush. That’s when you have the same suit of a ten, jack, queen, king, and ace. You can have a straight flush . . .” She paused, realizing this was going to take forever to explain. Plus, he was staring at her with a blank face. She’d lost him.

“Maybe we should just play and I’ll teach you as we go. In fact, let’s just show our hands for the first couple rounds, and then I’ll say what I would do if I had that hand.”

She placed her cards faceup on the table. “So see, I have a pair of threes and then not really much else. Ace is high card, though, so if both of us ended with the same hand, I could win with the ace. But if you had any other higher pair, you’d beat my threes. So I was thinking of keeping my face cards and trading in my threes and two. Am I making any sense?”

“Yes.” He put his cards face up. He had two sevens, two jacks, and a five.

“You punk. You already have me beat.”

“So this is a good hand?”

“Well, sort of. I mean, it’s really the third lowest. Seven hands can beat it, but that’s assuming I get one of those seven hands. A full house would be better. So definitely trade in your five and hope for a jack or a seven. But at this point, either way you’ll probably beat my hand.”

He handed her his five and she flicked him a card, faceup on top of the ones in front of him. It was a seven.

She huffed. “You lucky SOB.”

“Did you just call me an SOB?”

“Sorry. That’s what my dad always says to his buddies when they’re playing. I forgot what it stood for until after I said it.”

He looked at the card. “I take it I just upgraded my hand.”

“Four slots, yes.” She placed her threes and two facedown next to the stack and drew three more. Shr got a friend for her king but the other two were an eight and a jack. “So a pair of kings. Basically the lowest hand. You won.”

“What do I win?”

“Well, if we had bet anything, you would’ve won the bet. But since we didn’t, you win the honor of knowing you won your first hand of poker.”  
He didn’t respond.

“So, do you want to play for something?” I asked, meeting his eyes.

“We already established that you have nothing,” he said.

“We could play for secrets. Questions.” Sophie had a feeling this was the only way she was ever going to get to know Keefe, because he certainly wasn’t volunteering any history about himself. And despite ber better judgment, she was curious about why he was the way he was—the cold, withdrawn loner.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Were you hustling me?” Sophie asked after an hour of playing. They’d long ago stopped showing their hands. He’d picked up the game easily. He didn’t quite know which hands beat which, or so he claimed, but that didn’t matter; he was still beating her nearly every time. She was glad he’d turned down my offer of playing for secrets. “You already knew how to play, didn’t you?”

“Nope.”

“You hiding cards up your sleeves or something?” Without thinking, She grabbed his hand, flipped it palm up, and ran her fingers along his wrist. She could now see his tattoo clearly. Three numbers. 7, 14, 14. Her finger traced the numbers without her permission . . . or his.

He met my eyes. “I don’t cheat.”

Sophie pulled back her hand. “It was a joke.”

He gathered his cards together and handed them back to her. “Maybe you need to shuffle better.”

Sophie started to protest but realized he was kidding when a smile played on his lips. A tingling sensation went up her arms. She rubbed at them. It was colder than she thought. “I’m a great shuffler. You’re just lucky. Very, very lucky.”

You got me. I’m the luckiest guy on earth.” His voice didn’t sound sarcastic, but she knew he was being sarcastic. And he was right. He wasn’t lucky outside of the card game. On top of that, even though he was beating her handily, this card game had been doing little for his mood. If anything, it had made him more withdrawn. Sophie nodded toward the tattoo. “What does it stand for?”

“I have another sweatshirt.”

It took her a moment to understand he was not answering her question with that statement. But when she realized she was still rubbing at her arms instead of pushing him to talk, Sophie nodded several times quickly. “Yes. I’m cold. It’s cold in here, right? Do you think there’s a way to break past the locked thermostat?”

"I don’t know.” He stood and walked over to his bag, where he retrieved a gray sweatshirt for her.

If she’d thought that his sleeping bag was clinging to his musky scent, his sweatshirt might as well have been on his body. It smelled amazing. Sophie slid it on and then brought the collar to her nose before she thought better of it.

“It’s been in my bag a while,” he said as though she was disgusted by the smell and not trying to hold back a sigh.

“No, it’s good. It’s fine. Thanks.”

He sat back down while she dealt another hand. Now that he was avoiding her question, the only thing she could look at was his tattoo. She wondered what it stood for, why he wouldn’t tell her. There were so many things she wondered about him.

She picked up her hand. It was decent for once.

“You ready to play for questions yet?” Sophie asked.

“What do you mean?”

Sophie folded her cards to look at him. “If I win, I get to ask you a question that you have to answer honestly. If you win, you get to ask me one.”

“You do realize that I’ve won the last nine hands.”

“Nine? Really? Have you been counting?”

“Yes.”

She laughed. “Then you have nothing to lose.”

He picked up his cards and looked at each one.

“So? Is that a yes?”

“Why not?”

Sophie fanned out her cards and tried to keep her face even, blank. “Do you want to trade any cards?”

“One.”

She slid him a card then traded one as well. She couldn’t help but smile when it gave her a full house. He laid down a royal flush and her smile was gone.

Before she’d even shown her cards he said, “So my question is: Where do you think your friends are? Honestly.”

His question was like a punch to her gut. “How do you know you won?”

He put his forearms on the table and nodded toward her cards.

Sophue laid them down, showing he’d guessed right. He looked at her cards, then at her again, waiting.

“I told you where I thought they were. Looking for me.”

“So the whole honesty part of this bet was just for show?”

“Fine. Honestly . . . I think they figured I went home because I was tired or upset or something.”

“How would you have gotten home?”

“They probably thought I called my mom or dad.”

“Why would they think that?" 

“Because I’ve done it before.”

He tilted his head. “You leave events often without telling anyone?”

“I have anxiety. I panic.” She’d never said that out loud before to anyone but her parents. Her friends probably thought she had some sleeping problem because she generally used sleep as an excuse to leave.

“Over what?”

“Everything. Nothing. I can work through it usually. But I’ve learned when I can’t, and that’s when I leave the situation.” She shuffled the cards and thought about putting an end to the game, but he’d already asked the worst question he could’ve; anything after this would be cake, and Sophie was still dying to find out some things about him.

When he didn’t say anything, she added, “I take medication for it. It’s no big deal.”

Her medication that was now in her overnight bag in Fitz’s trunk. Missing three days wouldn’t be the end of the world, but still, it was something else to worry about.

She met his eyes, daring him to make her explain some more. He didn’t. Sophie dealt another hand that he proceeded to win. She sighed and waited as he leaned back in his chair and stared her down, as if the perfect question would present itself. He had never looked at her for this long and she couldn’t maintain his gaze. She began tracing the grain of the wood on the tabletop. It was pretty sad that it was this hard for him to come up with a question for her when she had a million things she wanted to know about him.

“Why are you always hiding behind your camera?”

“What?” Her eyes shot up to his. She wasn’t even sure how to answer that question because it was more of an untrue statement than a question. “I’m not. I like photography. End of story.”  
He nodded, then leaned back as if waiting for her to deal him another hand.

“I do. I like everything about it. I like capturing a moment in time forever. I like seeing things from a different perspective. I like taking a section out of a whole, deciding which section that is going to be. I like the predictability of a camera, that it does exactly what I tell it to do. I like capturing emotion and stories and memories.”

He raised his eyebrows a bit, like that answer surprised him, but when he still didn’t say anything she added, “I’m not hiding from anything.”

“It’s good to know what you like,” he said.

“It is.” How did he do that? How did he get her to say so much with so little effort? She took a deep breath, calmed her mind, and dealt another hand.

Her hand was good. She only had to trade in one. When she drew the new card it gave her a full house. Sophie kept her face as passive as possible.

He traded three and her foot tapped nervously while she waited for him to study his hand. He placed two pairs faceup on the table.

“Ha!” Sophie said, laying her cards down. “Finally.”

He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back in his chair.

There were so many questions she wanted to be answered that it was hard to narrow it down to one. Her eyes went to his wrist. She really wanted to know what the tattoo meant, but since he’d already not answered it once, she had a strong feeling that he wouldn’t answer this time either, regardless of the fact that she had just won.

Maybe he’d answer this one. “Why did your dad kick you out of the house?”

He was silent for a moment, and for a second, Sophie wondered if that was truly just a rumor that had been breeding around the school, but then, he spoke. ”He always thought I had to live up to his expectations,” his tone was bitter, like he was remembering a past memory,” When I clearly wasn’t going to live up to those expectations, he kicked me out, said I never deserved to be his son.”

The words felt raw, and Sophie regretted asking him. His face was twisted into sharp, bitter lines, and he raked a hand through his hair.

Sophie opened her mouth, then closed it. What was she supposed to say? Should she comfort him, distract him, pressure him to say more? Before she could say anything, He looked at her and tossed her his cards. Then he stood abruptly. “I’m hungry.” With that, he left the table and headed for the doors.

Sophie knew she was lucky he answered one question. She should’ve known this bet would end the game.


	5. Fire Alarm

Keefe was in front of the television eating the rest of his candy bar when Sophie arrived. The sleeping bag was sitting where she’d left it on the couch. She sat down on her end and pulled it over her lap.

Sophie lifted a corner. “Do you want to share?”

“I’m good.”

Her candy bar was still on the coffee table, and even though her stomach wasn’t protesting too much, She picked it up anyway and began eating. It was stupid to eat as a distraction here. Sophie couldn’t afford that, but she did it anyway.

“I can count on one hand how many Paydays I’ve eaten in my life, but right now this is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you eat Paydays a lot?”

“No.”

“What’s your favorite candy bar?”

“Do you think because we played one card game together that we’re friends now?”

That took the air right out of her as a jolt of anger surged through her body. “Nope. Just trying to pass the time.” He probably wanted her to leave, but because he was being a jerk, she was going to stay. Sophie laid her head on the armrest and turned her attention to the television. Some soccer game was on. She hadn’t pegged him as a soccer fan. Sophie really hadn’t labeled him as anything but a troublemaker before this weekend. And he was only proving her label so far. She pulled the sleeping bag up around her shoulders.

If Biana had been there, they’d be snuggling together, talking about their latest crushes. Just the Saturday before, they had sat on her couch, where a movie played in the background as they talked.

“When are you going to tell my brother you like him?” she asked.

She was the only one of our friends that Sophie told about Fitz. It wasn’t because she didn’t trust the other girls; Sophie just spent more time with Biana outside of school, so they talked more. “I don’t know. I have a hard time opening up to him. Every time I start to, I get nervous.”

“There’s nothing to get nervous about. He likes you.”

Sophie had originally thought Biana would be completely against the idea of her dating her brother, but surprisingly, Biana was really supportive about the whole thing.

“He seems to like everyone.”

“But he likes you the most. We’ve all seen it.”

“Then why hasn’t he asked me out?”

Biana squeezed her hand. “I think guys can be just as insecure as girls. You’re sending him mixed signals.”

“I am?”

“Yes, you’ll flirt, and then when he flirts back, you back off.”

“It’s true. I start to overthink it. I overthink everything.”

“Well, don’t. You two are adorable together. And if you don’t tell him, and everyone, soon, Linh will beat you to him.”

“What? Linh likes him?”

“I don’t know, but sometimes I think she does. Go take what’s yours,” she said, then laughed and laughed.

Sophie joined her.

She came back into the present with a smile on her face. She missed Biana. It seemed silly because she’d just seen her the day before, but she was supposed to spend the whole weekend with her. She’d been looking forward to it.

Sophie stared at the empty wrapper in her hand. She’d eaten the rest of her candy bar. Keefe’s empty wrapper was on the coffee table as well. She mentally calculated the rest of their food again. It hadn’t multiplied. But they’d be fine. People survived in the wilderness for longer and with less. Why did that thought make her heart race? Why was her breathing becoming more rapid? No, she wasn’t going to freak out over this.

Sometimes anxiety would hit Sophie sideways like that, when she wasn’t expecting it. When it didn’t seem logical. When she thought she’d done the perfect job of talking herself through the trigger. It’s like her heart wouldn’t listen. She knew this whole situation was overwhelming and that her body was deciding to play catch-up, but she didn’t want to do this here, in front of him. He was already judging her enough.

She stood, trying to hide her uneven breathing, and left the room. This place made her feel trapped. She needed some fresh air. There had to be a window she could open somewhere in the building. Her mind raced as she remembered trying every one of those windows the night before. She went for the stairs, climbed floor after floor searching for one she hadn’t tried. She arrived breathless at the very top—the fourth floor. It was a storage space of sorts. A room with boxes and boxes of stuff—old decorations, bolts of fabric, tablecloths. So much stuff. A maze of stuff trapping her in.

Her heart felt like it was about to burst from her chest. She leaned up against the nearest wall. Stop stop stop stop stop. Stop it. Her eyes were watering; her ears felt plugged as her heartbeat pounded in them. She was freaking out over freaking out and that never helped. “It’s okay to freak out,” Sophie said, but she knew she didn’t believe it.

Sophie looked up and saw a door across the way—a nondescript white one with a metal bar spanning its center. One she hadn’t seen before.

She tripped over her own feet as she nearly ran to it and pushed it open. The door led to a circular metal staircase. Each step creaked, and the whole staircase seemed to be a screw short as it wobbled under her weight. Sophie held tight to the dusty handrail until she reached the top. Her clumsy nature wasn’t helping this situation. Another door waited for her there, a creepy wooden owl on the last bit of banister watching guard over it. She yanked open the door and almost stepped onto the roof, but caught herself in time. The roof was peaked and wouldn’t have been safe even without the layer of snow, but a rush of cold air hit her across the face, immediately drying the sweat that clung there. She gulped in icy breath after icy breath, cooling her insides as well.

Sophie’s heart slowed; her breathing evened. Her legs were still shaky, though, so she lowered herself to the ground at the top of those narrow stairs and looked out at the snow-blanketed roof. Was it unreasonable to think she could sit up there for the rest of the weekend? The sky was darkening and soon the stars would be out.

She thought of being in her bed, staring at the glowing constellations on her ceiling in the dark. She was always fascinated by the constellations, about what was up there. She would be there in a couple of days, maybe sooner. Sophie thought about the things that helped her relax- her mom brushing her hair, her dad humming while he cooked eggs at the stove, her pet hamster, Iggy running on his wheel in his cage. The rest of her body settled down with these thoughts.

Sophie wiped at her eyes with the heels of her hands. They watered sometimes during episodes like this. It was annoying. It wasn’t like this happened very often. Just once in a while when things or events she didn’t expect overtook her. This situation seemed to be triggering something in her. It wasn’t surprising considering how out of the ordinary the last twenty-four hours had been. She’d be back to normal as soon as this was over, she kept telling herself. She just had to get through it.

Sophie leaned back on her palms. “Why can’t I just control my mind better?” she groaned to the ceiling. No, not the ceiling. Sophie realized she was staring at the underside of a large bell, a rope dangling down below it. This was a bell tower. Of course it was. She had seen the bell tower many times from the outside, She just hadn’t thought about it at all from the inside. Sophie was sitting in a bell tower under a bell that was never rung.

Sophie jumped up, grabbed hold of the rope, and tugged. Someone would notice a bell that never rang, ringing. They had to.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Or……. maybe nobody would notice. She’d tugged it ten times, then had gone downstairs to the main doors to wait for someone to arrive. But an hour later the outside of the library wasn’t swarming with super-observant concerned citizens or hyperaware firefighters. No, the front path only held perfectly undisturbed snow.

She’d ring it twenty times. Or nonstop. Someone would hear it then. Sophie backed up slowly from the front door, about to head up the stairs again when a thought hit her. Firefighter. She was an idiot. This was a public library. There was a way better alarm in this place. Why hadn’t she thought of it before?

A small red lever on a wall should’ve been easier to find. Especially since it was supposed to be findable in case of an emergency. It didn’t help that it was getting dark. Sophie had found the glass case with the fire extinguisher behind it. The one that said In case of fire, break glass. She assumed an alarm would sound if she broke the glass, but she felt bad doing that when there really wasn’t a fire. There had to be a basic lever somewhere. Something of the non-glass-breaking variety. Maybe it was in the main room.

Keefe was back in his usual spot, book in hand when she walked in like he’d never left. After one lap of the library, he asked, “What are you doing?”

“I have a plan.” One he would probably hate, because it involved bringing the authorities right to their doorstep, but he hadn’t told her why that was such a big deal anyway, so she didn’t care. Sophie went to the checkout desk and searched the underside for a panic button. Did all buildings have those or just banks?

“Are you going to share?”

“Oh, now you want a commentary?” Sophie said, her tone filled with dryness. 

He didn’t respond, and she was done playing his surly game. The one where he put in minimal effort and expected maximum results. She didn’t have to talk either.

Suddenly a thought hit her. Kitchen! There would be a fire alarm in the kitchen for sure. That was where a fire was most likely to start in a place like this. She headed there. Sophie heard Keefe’s footsteps on the stairs behind her. That was fine with her. He could see her plan in real time.

She was right. Directly outside the kitchen on the wall was her red beacon of hope. She let out a cry of relief. But as Sophie reached for it, she was abruptly pulled back by a hand on her wrist

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Sophie turned to face him. “Saving us. The fire department will come and realize someone is in here and save us.”

He moved between her and the fire alarm. “After breaking down the door with axes. Not to mention the alarm is probably attached to sprinklers. Is your family going to pay for the damage?”

Sophie looked up at the ceiling. Sure enough, there were sprinklers.

“Can you really not last two more days in here? Is it that bad?”

Sophie thought about the episode she’d just had where it felt like her heart was being ripped from her chest. She didn’t want to live through another one of those. “Yes. It is. I want to go home. I doubt the alarm will set off the sprinklers. Usually, there has to be smoke for that. There’s a window by the front door. I’ll stand there and let the firefighters know there is no fire, just trapped people. They won’t break anything. They’ll go get a key or something.” She wasn’t sure if that was true. Maybe someone would try to come in from the back or a window. But she really needed this. “Move.”

“I need to be able to leave undetected. Don’t do this. For me.”

“We play one card game together and you think we’re friends?” Sophie shot back, using his words against him.

He gave a breathy laugh that sounded way too forced. “I’m a jerk. We both know that, but you’re not. Don’t bring the fire department here.”

“Why? What’s the big deal? What are you hiding?”

“I’m not hiding anything. I just don’t need to be on their radar.”

“Why would this put you on their radar?”

“A teen accidentally locked in a library with his overnight bag?” his voice rose slightly.

“You can say you were going to a friend’s after you studied. I would’ve had my overnight bag here too if I hadn’t put it in my friend’s car.” Sophie didn’t understand why he didn’t want to be found. He said he didn’t want to stay here in the first place, why not get out as quickly as possible?

Keefe’s jaw clenched, and he looked away, his fist curled into balls. It looked like he was fighting a mental battle with himself. After a moment he turned back to her, locking his eyes with hers,“I have one more chance, okay?”

Sophie blinked. “What? What do you mean?”

“I don’t want to end up in a group home. If I get one more strike, that’s where I’m headed. I wouldn’t last a day in there. They have curfews and rules. I need my freedom.”

She folded her arms across her chest and let out a puff of air. “So why are you here? Really?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Does it matter?”

“Yes. It could be the difference between me pulling that alarm when you’re asleep or not.”

“You’re blackmailing me for information?”

“Let’s call it sharing between friends.” Sophie made sure plenty of sarcasm was heaped onto that remark.

He shook his head and a smile stole across his face. There was something very satisfying about a smile that had to be earned, but it was gone as fast as it had appeared.“My stuff was on the porch. I was heading toward the canyon when it started to snow. That's it. Will you leave the alarm now?”

“Wait . . . what? Your foster parents put your sleeping bag and duffel on the porch?” Was that why he really didn’t have a charger for his phone? Because he hadn’t packed his own bag? “Why did they do that?”

“I don’t know. They’re probably having a members-only Tupperware party tonight. I don’t ask questions. I don’t care.”

“At least they packed you a toothbrush.” She was trying to find a positive in this when it was obvious there was nothing good about it.

“I always have my own bag packed, ready to go. I like to sleep up in the canyon sometimes. It’s amazing up there. But I don’t like sleeping in the snow.”

“So you came here.”

“Yes. Mystery solved. See, not as seedy as you probably imagined.”

No, it was actually worse than she’d imagined. Who did that? Who put a teenager out on the street to fend for himself so they could do . . . what were they doing that they didn’t want him there for?

“Will the whole school know about this on Tuesday or just half?” He said when she stayed silent. Bitterness stole his tone.

“No. I mean, of course not. I won’t tell anyone.” But maybe she should tell someone. Her parents or something. He shouldn’t have to live like that.

Her thoughts must’ve been written all over my face again because he said, “Foster. Do I look like I’m not taken care of?”

She looked him up and down, noticing how he had used her last name instead of her first. But he was right. He didn’t look starved. He had a lean body but it was strong. His skin was smooth, with no dark circles under his eyes or anything. His hair was thick. He looked really good, in fact. Really good. Her cheeks went hot and she stopped her analysis of him immediately. “No. You look . . . It’s just—”

“Then let’s move on. I’m fine.” He pointed to the fire alarm. “Don’t touch.”

His story and the fact that she actually wasn’t sure that the whole library wouldn’t be soaked with the sprinklers if she pulled the lever made her decision for her. She could stay here. This was no big deal. He had way more to lose than she did. Sophie held up her hands. “Fine.”

“Two days. You can last two days Foster. I have a couple of protein bars in my bag. You can have them.”

Sophie wasn’t going to eat those all herself. She’d feel terrible. “Do you normally give yourself so little food when camping?”

“I’m normally not locked inside a building. I really hadn’t planned on the library. It was a last-minute decision.”

She rubbed her arms. “Is this building really warmer than camping in the snow?”

He smiled.

Sophie smiled back, forcing her hands to her sides, “Can we at least try to turn up the heat?”

They stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the thermostat. Keefe had used his knife to pry open the small lock. He was now pushing the On button, but it would only flash then turn back off.

“Maybe it’s programmed for certain hours,” he said.

“Let me try.”

“You can push a button differently than me?” a hint of a smirk ghosting his lips.

Sophie nudged him with her shoulder. “Maybe.” She pushed the Up arrow several times, hoping to turn up the heat, but this time it didn’t even pretend like it was trying. She flipped open the panel. On the backside were instructions on how to program it, but even following them to the letter did nothing.

“You can wear this sweatshirt too if you want.” He pulled on the front of the one he had on when she shivered again.

“No, that’s okay. I’m fine for now. I just feel like it’s only going to get colder.”

“It’s probably not turned off, just down. They wouldn’t want the pipes to freeze.”

He was right—maybe this was as cold as it would get. “I hate being cold.” Sophie turned toward him. “I especially hate cold ears. Feel them.”

“Feel your ears?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

When it was obvious he wasn’t going to do it himself, She took him by the wrists and directed his hands onto her ears. They were now facing each other. He was half a foot taller, and she looked up to meet his eyes. His hands felt warm, so she knew her ears must’ve been as cold as she knew they would be. “See. Cold.”

He didn’t say a word, just stared at me, something flickered in his eyes.

Sophie felt stupid so she took a step back. “Socks. Maybe I can borrow a pair of your socks.”

“For your ears?”

She smiled. “For my feet.”

He cleared his throat and looked down at her feet and barely-there socks. “Yes-Um sure.” He seemed almost embarrassed, and Sophie’s guard dropped.

Mistake.

In a surprise move, he reached around her, pulled the hood of the sweatshirt onto her head, and tightened the strings so she could only see out a small opening. “That should help too.” There was a teasing sparkle in his eyes, one she’d never seen there before.

Sophie laughed and shoved him, freeing herself from the hood.

A single overhead light clicked on. She hadn’t realized how dark it had gotten. They’d just spent the entire day in the library. Two more and this would be over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the weird updates, school has been hectic.  
> I'll try to update it again this week, happy reading!


	6. Mother Goose

As much as she’d wanted to sleep on the couch in the break room, it was too cold. So there they were again, on the main floor in the library, surrounded by books. Keefe had loaned her a pair of socks, as well as the sleeping bag, and she was on the ground, pulling those socks as high as possible.

“What did you do with my toothpaste?” he asked from the other side of the table. Ever since she hadn’t pulled the fire alarm an hour ago, Keefe’s expression had seemed less guarded. Like maybe he trusted her a little more now. It was a good change. It felt like they had some sort of pact, like they were on the same team now, like they were in this together.

“Oh, it’s in the girls’ bathroom. I’ll go get it for you.”

She started to get up when he stopped her with, “It’s fine. I’ll get it.”

“You can’t go in the girls’ bathroom.”

“Why not?” He sounded amused.

“Because . . . because . . . huh, I guess you can. We can do whatever we want. We make our own rules here!” Her voice echoed through the room. She wasn’t sure if it was her tiredness or boredom taking over, but she started to giggle and couldn’t stop.

“Should I be worried?” 

“Nope,” Sophie said through her laughter. “Go brush your teeth in the girls’ bathroom. Don’t mind me.”

Last time she’d gotten a case of uncontrollable laughter was a couple of weeks ago when her sister and she ate a whole bowl of cookie dough while her mom was on a phone call. She’d come back to help them finish baking and all the dough was gone.

“You’re going to get sick. There was raw egg in that.” Edaline, her mother exclaimed.

Sophie looked at her sister Jolie, and it had probably been the sheer amount of sugar they’d just ingested, but they both started laughing. When her mom continued to be irritated, they only laughed more. Eventually, they’d worn her down and she had joined in.

“You’re still laughing,” Keefe said when he came back a few minutes later. “It wasn’t that funny.”

“I know.”Sophie had pulled the cushions off several chairs and arranged them under the sleeping bag. She’d crawled inside and zipped it clear up to her chin. “But when I start, it’s hard to stop.”

“You do this a lot?”

“Just when I’m tired . . . or hyper . . . or happy. Oh, and sometimes when I’m nervous.”

He gave a single laugh. “So the answer is yes.”

“I guess so.” The laughing picked up again.

He stretched out on the other side of the table from her, wadding up a shirt and placing it under his head. “But eventually it stops?”

Usually, by now, the person who was witnessing her laughing spell had already joined in. Keefe wasn’t having it, though, which only made her laugh more. “We’re stuck in a library.”

“Good night.” He reached up to the table between them and turned out the light.

“You’re no fun.” Her giggling worked its way down for the next several minutes and eventually stopped.

She tried to sleep but instead lay staring at the ceiling. Maybe it was the memory she’d just had of her mom or the darkness that now surrounded them, but worry inched its way into her mind and crawled around freely there, dispelling the levity of before. Worry about her parents trying to get ahold of her. Worry about her friends thinking she had ditched them. Worry that Linh really did like Fitz and she’d beat her to telling him at the bonfire. Her brain wouldn’t shut off. She tried to distract herself by thinking of something she could talk to Keefe about.

“What would your government consist of?” She asked.

“Hmm?” Keefe answered from the blackness.

“Aside from being able to brush your teeth in the girls’ bathroom. What are your rules in our fake world?”

“Rule one. No talking once the lights go out.”

She laughed. “I would veto that rule immediately.”

He made a breathy sound that could’ve been a laugh, but it also could’ve been a sigh.

“Because we’re co-rulers in the library world.” Sophie turned onto her side, propping herself on her elbow, even though she couldn’t see him. His body made a darker shape twenty feet from her, and she tried to focus on that. “My first rule would be games. We have to play games.”

“Head games?”

Sophie gave a single laugh. “You’re good at those, but no. Real games.”

“Like poker?”

“Yes, like poker.”

“You like games,” he said.

“Yes.” Especially games with lots of steps and instructions where Sophie could concentrate on those and not let her head get the better of her. Just talking about rules right now was relaxing her. Structure sometimes helped her feel safe. “What about you? What do you like?”

She thought he wasn’t going to answer, which wouldn’t have surprised her, but he did. “Art. Nature.”

“And reading?”

“Yes.”

“So, exploring new places?” Sophie questioned.

“Yeah . . . I guess so.”

“That can be rule two. You must read in the library. I mean, that rule doesn’t make sense at all, but we’ll keep it.” He probably couldn’t see her smile, but even she could hear it in her voice.

“There should be no rules in our world,” he said.

“You’re right. That will be rule number three.”

This time he did laugh. A warm, deep laugh that made her smile double and her body feel warm. It was the first time she’d heard it, and she hoped it wouldn’t be the last. Sophie laid back down. “Good night, Keefe.”

“Night.”

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

When she woke up, Keefe was already gone from his spot. She stretched. Considering she’d slept on the floor, Sophie had slept surprisingly well. She’d been warm and comfortable. Now that she was awake, she had a slight pain in her stomach from hunger, and she had to pee, but she did not want to get out of the sleeping bag.

After a trip to the bathroom, she downed a full cup of water, hoping it would trick her stomach into thinking it wasn’t hungry. It worked a little. Then she went back to the checkout desk, where she remembered seeing something the day before in her frantic search for an alarm.

“What are you doing?” Keefe asked when he came into the room and found her behind the desk digging through a wicker basket.

“This is Mother Goose’s basket.”

“Okay.”

“She brings this to reading time every week. It has those cheapie little toys she hands out to the kids.”

Keefe nodded, then glanced down at the basket, “So why are you interested in Mother Goose’s toys?”

Her hand closed around what she’d been looking for. “Aha!” Sophie held it up in the air, then threw it in the pile of the other things that she’d already found.

“What is it?”

“A sticky hand.”

“Okay, then.” He tossed her a protein bar. “I’m going to read now.”

“No. You’re not. I’m bored out of my mind.”

“Maybe you should sing.” he winked as he said it.

Sophie’s eyes shot to his. Had he heard her that first day belting out songs at the top of her lungs? Of course he had. “You know very well I can’t sing.”

He laughed, and Sophie’s cheeks went very red.

“I’m implementing rule number one,” Sophie said, changing the subject. She ripped open the wrapper of the protein bar and took a bite. “Did you already eat one of these?”

“I told you they’re yours.”

She broke off another piece and handed him the rest. “I can’t eat all the food. I’d get a guilt headache.”

“A guilt headache?”

“It’s a thing.”

“It must be a nice person thing.” He popped the protein bar in his mouth.

“Funny.”

“Rule number one?” he asked, turning his attention back to her pile of toys.

“Games. Eat, and then we compete.” Sophie gave a single laugh. “That totally rhymed.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was an amused look in them. Yeah, her not pulling the fire alarm was the best thing she could have done. They were definitely on the same team now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter, some things came up and I have been distracted.  
> I'll try to pump out a longer one next time I update!


	7. Sticky Hands

They stood at the top of opposite wood staircases. Keefe held a wrapped blue Slinky and Sophie held a red one. “Whichever one makes it to the bottom first wins. You can only touch it if it gets stuck,” She called across to him, her voice echoing in the large space.

“I could be reading right now.”

“I could be eating a home-cooked meal right now, but we’re both making sacrifices for the greater good.”

He grinned, then tore open the plastic wrapping with his teeth. “Are you going to be as good at this as you were at poker?”

“Hey! Better to talk smack after you win.”

They both placed their Slinkys at the top. Sophie counted to three and they both let go. His went three steps before falling between the slats of the handrail to the tile floor below. Sophie laughed as hers kept going. “You’re still in the game,” She said. “You just have to get it and put it back on the same step.”

He ran down the stairs faster than Sophie would’ve expected and hopped the banister at the bottom. He collected his Slinky and ran back up. She’d never seen him so animated as he put his Slinky back on the step and gave it a nudge to get it going again. It was too late, though; Sophie had directed hers to a win before his had made it another five steps. She raised both hands in the air. “Winner! Who can talk smack now?”

He folded his arms and leaned against the railing as if waiting for her to give it her best shot.

“I win because I’m the best,” She said lamely.

“You’ve had a lot of practice, I see.” Keefe remarked, a smirk finding its way onto his features.

“I win all the time. I’m just humble about it.”

He let out a single laugh, then scooped his Slinky up off the floor. “Best two out of three?”

“Sure. It’s not like we don’t have all the time in the world.”

After her fifth win in a row he stood at the top of his set of stairs studying his Slinky. “Maybe mine is defective.”

“Is that the excuse you’re going with?”

He flipped it over and pulled on the end. “If I had a penny and some gum . . .”

Sophie lowered her eyebrows. “What?”

“If one side was weighted I think it would go faster.”

“And what would the gum be used for?”

“I’d have to stick the penny on with something.”

“And gum was the go-to? Not tape or superglue?”

“I was trying to think of two things we might actually be able to find in this place.”

“Let’s move on to the next game before you start searching under tables.”

“Next game?”

“Follow me.”

Sophie led him to the end of the hall, past a bronze bust of the president of the college the building used to house, then turned around. The other wrapped toys were in her pocket, and she brought out the two mini Frisbees she had found. Each had a plastic launcher.

“So you put the Frisbee in the launcher and you squeeze the end. Whichever one goes farthest wins.”

“Is there a secret to make it go farther?” Keefe asked, studying the one she placed in his hand.

“I don’t know. You seem to be the one with all the secrets.” When she realized how that sounded she quickly added, “I mean, pennies, gum—maybe you have some modification for this as well.”

“I don’t,” he said.

“Well, I haven’t used one of these since I was little, so I have no idea. You want a few practice rounds?” Sophie thought he’d say no, but as he opened the package and stared at the blue disc he held, he nodded his head. Sophie stifled a laugh. He was taking this more seriously than she thought he would.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, it’s something. What?”\

“You’re competitive.”

He smirked. “I’m not the one who pouted every time I lost a hand of poker.”

“I did not pout.”

“What do you call it, then?”

Sophie launched her disc. “I call it showing emotions. You should try it.”

“What are emotions?” He sent his disc flying down the hall as well. His landed several feet past hers. How had he done that? “So, I won?”

“No! That was a practice round. You wanted a practice round.”

“Who’s competitive again?”

Sophie shoved his shoulder playfully. “I’m not. I just like to follow the pre-established rules.”

He laughed and collected their discs. “Whatever you want to call it.”

When he held up his hand readying his launcher, She pushed on his arm, sending the disc flying into the wall.

He gave her a grunt, but his eyes were smiling.

Sophie held hers up and she hadn’t noticed that he’d moved around behind her until he picked her up by the waist and swung her to face the wrong direction.

“Cheater!” Sophie called out as her disc ricocheted off the window behind them.

“I thought distractions were in the pre-established rules.”

“Okay, fine, no interference this time. We launch them together.”

As they held them up she kept looking at him, waiting for him to push her off balance or something. He didn’t, but she felt off balance and sent her mini Frisbee a little too high. His was aimed perfectly by a steady, unaffected hand. He won the round.

“Is it time for rule number two to go into effect yet?” Keefe asked after totally dominating several rounds of the Frisbee game.

“Rule number two?”

“Reading.”

“Oh.” She laughed.

“Or rule number three would work fine too.”

“I vetoed rule number three. Last game.” Sophie pulled him by his arm into the glass-enclosed walkway. The stained-glass window, the focal point of the hall, sparkled even brighter from the light reflecting off the snow-covered scenery outside. She handed him a sticky hand. “We need a tiebreaker.”

“What’s the game?”

“Whichever one stays stuck to the glass the longest is the winner.”

“The winner of what?” he asked.

“Did you want to play for something? Another truth?”

He pinched the hand between his fingers as if testing its sticking power, then nodded. “Sure.”

Sophie counted to three and launched her hand over the rail. Her red hand stuck a little higher on the curving arch of the window. His green one had a piece of the long string arm that hadn’t quite stuck. She was going to win. They just had to wait it out.

“How long do they stick for?” he asked.

“My sister once threw one on the ceiling and it stayed up there for two days.”

“Two days?”

“That’s not the norm, though. Didn’t you ever play with these as a kid?”

“No. I did not.”

Sophie sat down and leaned against the railing. She stretched her legs out in front of her.

“Nice socks,” he remarked.

Sophie smiled. She had pulled his socks over her jeans, and even though she knew it looked ridiculous, it was keeping her a little warmer. “Thanks. Everyone should wear them this way.”

He sat down next to her, their shoulders almost touching. An electric energy seemed to radiate between them. They were probably just the only heat sources to be found in this hallway, making that energy seem like a tangible force.

“How old is your sister?” he asked.

“She’s a Junior in college. Twenty. That makes me the youngest, with all those fun character traits.”

“What traits are those?”

“Agreeable, motivated, perceptive.”

“You let traits define you?”

“No. There are a lot of characteristics of the youngest children that I don’t relate to at all. What about you? Do you have any siblings?” Too late she realized that might’ve been a sore subject for him. He was in foster care. Sophie wasn’t sure how that worked if there was more than one child.

“No. Guess that gives me all the only-child traits.”

“What traits are those?”

“Selfish, private, apathetic.” He had a small smile on his face so she knew he was at least a little bit kidding.

“I think you mean confident, independent, highly motivated.”

“You read a lot of psychology books?”

With her condition, she had, actually. “Yes, and my friend Marella is an only child.” She liked to brag about how it gave her the advantage in almost every aspect of life. Except for humility, Sophie always pointed out. “Do you know Marella?”

“Is she Asian?”

“No, that’s Linh. Marella is short, has blonde hair.”

He shrugged. “Maybe if I saw her.”

He didn’t know Marella, but he knew her? She always thought more people knew Marella, especially considering the fact that Marella was pretty into school gossip.

Sophie’s eyes shifted from watching the unmoving sticky hands to the scene outside. The snow was higher than she’d seen it in a while. “Do you think that maybe cell phone reception is being affected by the weather?”

“Over a little snow? I doubt it. Why?”

“It’s just, I understand why maybe my friends figured I went home and aren’t worried. But I haven’t called my parents in thirty-six hours now. I’m surprised they haven’t been scouring the city for me. They would’ve called Biana up at the cabin by now. That’s where they thought I was. Biana would’ve told them I wasn’t there and someone would figure out I was here. I don’t get it.”

“Up at the cabin? Like in the mountains?”

“Yes.”

“There’s probably more snow up there.”

“So maybe the reception is worse up there?”

“It’s possible. If a tower went down or something.”

“If they haven’t been able to get ahold of anyone, they’d just assume we were all snowed in, right? It’s actually happened before—the getting snowed in part.”

“There you go. Mystery solved.”

“Yeah . . . I guess.”

“Do you have another theory?”

“No.” He was right. They were snowed in. Her parents assumed she was too. Fitz hadn’t opened his trunk all weekend to see her bag. It was the only thing that made sense. Biana was probably sitting up at the cabin with Linh and Marella, angry that she had bailed on them. They’d all laugh about this when they found out the truth. That she had spent the weekend in a big creepy library. It really was a new adventure for her.

“Where else have you spent the night?” Sophie asked.

Keefe was quiet, and she suddenly realized how that sounded without the benefit of her thought process. “I mean, when you don’t stay at home and it’s snowing out,” She corrected.

“This isn’t a weekly event or anything.” 

“I know, but I can tell it’s not an uncommon occurrence either.”

When his silence stretched on she added, “You’re right, you better not tell me or I might show up at your next stop.”

That comment won her a small smile.

“There are some churches that are left unlocked sometimes. And I’ve stayed at the school before.”

“Our school? Really?”

Keefe shifted next to her, and his shoulder brushed against hers and then stayed there. She didn’t move away.

“Yes,” he said.

“Don’t you ever get scared?”

“No.”

“Are you scared of anything? What’s the first thought that comes to your mind when I say worst fear?”

He seemed to think about it.

“I said first thought. No thinking, just spit it out.”

“Commitment.”

“Like to a girl?”

“To whatever. A girl, a cat, a class. What about you?” he asked before she could make him explain more.

“Having no control.”

“Over what?”

“Boys, cats, classes.”

He smiled.

“I don’t know, anything, I guess. Whether a teacher calls on me in class or not. Whether my mom can keep her job. It’s irrational because I have no control over it. But that’s the point, I guess. I wish I did.”

Her butt was numb from the cold, but she sat still, staring at the sticky hands on the glass, willing his to stay for just a few more minutes so this game would last longer. What was wrong with her? Thirty-six hours and suddenly she was craving human contact from anyone, apparently. Sophie leaned on her right hand, breaking their connection. She could see her own breath, white puffs of air, in front of her.

Another section of Keefe’s sticky hand detached itself from the glass.

“Looks like mine is about to fall,” he said, standing up.

“I want to win fair and square.”

He backed up. “You will.”

“Where are you going?” Sophie asked as he walked away.

“Let me know who wins. I’m cold.”

“You can’t just leave. What if mine falls?”

“You seem like the type who would let me know that.”

“I could lie.”

He gave a small laugh as he continued to walk away. “No, actually, you can’t.”

“Just because you’re freakishly good at reading facial expressions doesn’t mean I can’t lie,” Sophie mumbled, but he was already gone and she wasn’t sure if he heard her. She wasn’t sure why she was trying to claim she was an expert liar or why he made her think that should be one of her goals. It wasn’t.


	8. Independence Day

It had taken at least another hour for his sticky hand to fall, followed by hers a couple of minutes later. By that time Sophie's hands were numb and her lungs were ice. Her chin vibrated her teeth together. She grabbed both sticky hands where they had fallen down to the floor below and went back to the main library. It didn’t feel much warmer.

“I w-won,” Sophie stuttered out to his reading form, then dropped into the nearest chair, plopping both the toy hands on the table. “In your face.”

He smiled. “You’re getting better at smack talk.” He had the sleeping bag around him. He took it off and held it out for her. When she didn’t move, he got up and walked it over.

“Was it worth it?” he asked, dropping it in her lap.

“Depends on your truth.”

“Oh, right, what’s your question?” He went back to his chair.

What was her question? Wasn’t this why she’d waited so long in that icy hall? she’d really wanted another truth out of him. There were so many questions she could ask—how was she supposed to narrow it down to one?

“I’m not all that interesting,” he said when Sophie was quiet for too long.

“Just a mystery,” She responded, causing him to laugh. She really did like his laugh. It was deep and alluring. She felt her cheeks flush at the thought.

“How so?” he asked, dragging her out of her thoughts.

“You’re always alone, you disappear during lunch, you never talk, not even in class, and you don’t seem to care what anyone thinks of you,” she said.

“And here I thought you hadn’t been paying attention.” A small smirk graced his features.

“You’re hard to ignore.” When she realized how that sounded, she added, “Everyone is always talking about you.” her statement went from bad to worse. She stopped while she was ahead.

“Right. So was there a question in there somewhere?”

“Where are your biological parents?”

When he flinched a little, She knew she was the most insensitive person ever. What made her think she had earned that information, even if they were on the same team now? “You don’t have to tell me. I can think of another question.” She said quickly.

“My mom was physically absent and my dad was mentally absent.”

She must’ve looked confused because he clarified. “My mom left when I was little. My dad was… well, him.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Like I told you before, I am perfectly fine. I am in a really good situation. And next year, I’ll be officially free of the entire stupid system.”

He had nobody. Nobody he could count on when he was in trouble, nobody to help him if he made the wrong step or lost his way. He was all alone. Her eyes burned with tears that she held back.

He sighed. “Don’t assign me emotions. Don’t pretend to know what I’m thinking based on your experiences.”

Sophie tried to control her expression even more. She needed to take him at his word. He said he was fine. He was probably fine. She was giving him emotions based on her universe, not his. “I’m sorry.” she repeated.

“Don’t be.” He picked up his book again and read.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It had been hours. Sophie was wrapped up in the sleeping bag and her teeth still hadn’t stopped chattering. She wondered if it was the lack of food. Did the body need food to warm itself? What had she been thinking staying in that cold hallway for so long? Keefe didn’t seem cold at all, sitting there in his chair reading away.

“K-Keefe.” Her throat hurt.

“Yeah?”

“What are the symptoms of hypothermia? Because I can no longer feel my fingers.”

He glanced up at her, then back down. “Go run the stairs or something.”

“Run the stairs . . .” He was right. She just needed to get her blood pumping. Sophie stood and walked toward the stairs. Stars appeared in her vision for a moment, her head feeling light. But she maintained her balance and made it to the stairs. The hallway was dark, the sun setting. She had been in the library for another full day. Just one more full day to go. Plus two nights . . . Why did that sound like an eternity?

Sophie started the steps slowly, just walking up each one. As the feeling returned to her extremities, she picked up her pace. Her mind began to wander. She missed her friends. Especially Fitz. He made her laugh.

Her stomach let out a large growl and she wondered if physical activity was going to make her warmer but hungrier. Sophie headed to the kitchen and decided the mystery dish needed to be warmed up and attempted. The only thing she’d had that day was half of a protein bar, and that was hours ago.

The microwave took her a while to decipher. She overcooked it a bit, hoping that would kill any bacteria that might’ve been living in the old food. She tried not to think about that as she forked a small bite into her mouth. It tasted like pasta with marinara sauce and it was very good. Sophie wasn’t sure if that was because she hadn’t eaten anything real in a while or if it actually was good, but she took a few more bites anyway.

She ate exactly half and took the rest down to Keefe.

“You braved the unknown?” he asked, accepting the dish and looking in the bowl like he wasn’t sure he was willing to do the same. He sniffed at it.

“Yes. It’s good. Eat it.”

The food and the exercise had done the trick for her, and her chin had finally stopped shivering. Keefe put his book to the side and took a small bite.

“What do you think it is?” Sophie asked.

“Pasta? Very overdone pasta.”

“It tasted good to me. Probably because I’m hungry.”

He took another bite, then held out the bowl. “You can have the rest. I don’t like it.”

“Really? You’re a food critic now?”

“Yes. And that’s disgusting.”

Sophie grabbed the pasta and it wasn’t until she ate two big bites that it occurred to her what he’d just done. Did he just pretend not to like it so she could eat it? Because it wasn’t gross at all. Sophie wasn’t sure one way or the other. It didn’t seem like something he’d do, but then again, he was different than she’d originally thought.

She finished off the rest of the pasta and put the empty dish down. “You should work on your history project while you’re here. We finished ours on Friday,” she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Yeah. Good idea.” Sophie could tell that was the last thing he was going to do. She wondered how his grades in school were. He missed so much she couldn’t imagine him doing very well.

“I can help you if you want.” she offered

“Sure. You get started. I’ll join you in a couple of hours.”

She kicked his foot with a smile. “Funny.”

Sophie walked over to the pile of books she had thrown the first night. Some were open facedown, their pages bent. She picked them up one by one, smoothing out the pages and stacking them neatly. Then she walked them over to a cart at the end of an aisle. There were several books already on the cart, waiting to be put away. Books with titles like: Ten Steps to Rehabilitation, Habits of an Addict, Brain Chemistry, and Addiction. They weren’t necessarily Keefe’s books—they could’ve been anyone’s, but Keefe had been here Friday too, obviously, waiting for the library to close. Was this the research he was doing instead of Miss. Belva’s project?

He doesn’t want your pity, Sophie reminded herself.

“I’m getting ready for bed,” Sophie told him, then turned around and headed for the bathroom, where he’d started leaving all the toiletries he’d brought. She took my time getting ready and then tucked herself into his sleeping bag.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Sophie awoke to a sound she couldn’t quite place at first. A clicking of sorts. It took her several disorienting minutes to realize it was Keefe, twenty feet away from her, shivering in his sleep. Had he been holding back his shivering when he was awake for her sake? She tried to ignore it, knowing he wouldn’t want her to do anything, but she felt guilty. Sophie had the very thing he had brought to keep himself warm. She climbed out of the sleeping bag, unzipped it, and crawled over to him, dragging it behind her.

When Sophie reached his side, she draped half of it over him and kept the other half. He immediately woke up . . . or maybe he hadn’t been fully asleep to begin with.

“I’m fine,” he muttered.

“That seems to be your mantra. Just take half.”

“I don’t need it.”

“Shut up and take it.”

He didn’t argue and finally stopped fighting it. He was cold. They weren’t even touching but the temperature under the bag noticeably dropped with his icy presence.

He chuckled a little.

“What?”

“Have you ever told anyone to shut up?”

“Nope. It’s like you pull it out of me.”

“How did it feel?” he asked.

“Good, actually.”

He laughed again and Sophie inched a little closer, knowing that her body heat would warm him up even faster.

They were quiet for several breaths. Breaths that she could see like a mist above them as they both lay on their backs. They had been in the library for two full days and even though she felt like Keefe and she had some sort of pact, she wondered if he would acknowledge her outside this situation. “Are we friends yet?”

“I don’t have friends.”

Sophie nodded even though she was pretty sure he couldn’t see her.

“But . . . you’re less annoying than I imagined you’d be,” he admitted.

“Thanks.” That was probably the closest he would ever come to giving a compliment, but Sophie was still offended. She didn’t want him to know that so she added, “You imagined me often?”

It had been a joke, but the way he went still beside her made her think that maybe there was some truth to it.

“Yes, all the time.” dryness stole his tone.

“I thought so,” Sophie said, pretending she didn’t know he was being sarcastic.

“Is it hard for you to think someone might not like you?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Why do you care what people think so much?”

Sophie thought about that question. Why did she care? Because she liked it when people were happy. Because she didn’t like to think that someone might not like her? “I don’t know.” Sophie took a deep breath. “I’m going to sleep now that your teeth aren’t chattering anymore.”

“My teeth weren’t chattering.”

“They totally were. Apparently you do have some feelings as much as you try to deny them.”

He didn’t say anything back, so she said, “Good night.”

“Night.”

She inched even closer, because his body still felt cold, and tried to sleep. But her mind wouldn’t shut off. Five minutes passed, then ten. The second hand on the wall clock sounded like a drum beat.

Sophie wished she didn’t care what people thought about her. “Why don’t you care?”

“What?”

“What people think about you?”

“Because I have no say in what other people do . . . or think.”

“I guess it’s hard for me to accept I don’t have a little say over that. I mean, the things I do can change people’s opinions.”

“If my mom taught me one thing it’s that you can’t control anyone but yourself.”

“When’s the last time you saw her?” Sophie asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He shrugged, his shoulder brushing mine, we were so close. “It’s been a while, she left when I started middle school.”

“I’m sorry. That sucks.” She didn’t know what else to say.

“Could be worse.”

“Could be better.”

“It always could.”

“Wow. So much positivity.”

“Yes, you know my reputation, the poster child for optimism. It must be an only child thing.”

Sophie smiled. “I’m sorry,” she said again because she still didn’t know what else to say.

“It’s life.” his tone sounded hollow, and Sophie’s heart ached because it wasn’t. Well, it wasn’t everyone’s life. And she wished it weren’t his.

She rolled onto her side, facing him. She knew she was close but she hadn’t anticipated that the movement would close the rest of the distance between them. Sophie pretended like it was purposeful and put her hand on his chest. He stiffened slightly.

“I’m still cold,” Sophie said quietly, hoping he’d accept her closeness if it were her suffering and not the other way around. He did give up food for her, after all. She was glad he couldn’t see her face because he’d be able to read the truth.

Keefe rubbed her upper arm without a word, and she rested her cheek on his shoulder, wondering what had gotten into her, how had made her so relaxed. How she could say whatever she was thinking to him? Do whatever she was feeling?

He adjusted his position so his arm was under her head, his hand now resting on her back. Sophie’s heart picked up speed. Keefe didn’t have any reaction to her nearness. His breathing was normal, and so was his heartbeat—she could tell, because with her ear against his chest now, it was loud.

Sophie closed her eyes. After a few moments of silence, Keefe’s breathing became a steady rhythm, lifting her head slightly with every intake. She could feel herself drifting when he adjusted his left arm and his wrist came into view. 7 14 14. “What does your tattoo stand for?” Sophie whispered. If he was already asleep, if he didn’t hear me, she’d let it go. And she thought he hadn’t heard me.

Then he said, “Independence day.”

Sophie was surprised he answered at all. She wondered if he was half asleep, his guard not fully engaged. “I think you’re a few days off on that.”

“My independence day. The day I let go of caring, of worrying, of everything. The day I first tasted freedom.”

He made it sound like a good day, but what he described made her sad. It sounded like it was the day he realized he was alone in the world. How could that be a good day? She knew he didn’t want her pity, though, so she didn’t offer it. “Did something happen on that day to make you realize that?”

“Yes,” was all he said.

“Freedom, huh? So when you’re eighteen and graduated you want to leave here?”

“Yes.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere. Knowing I can leave when I want, that nothing is holding me here, is the only thing that keeps me sane. It’s why a group home would kill me.”

Silence hung around them. His shivering had finally stopped. She thought about moving away now that he was warmer, but she couldn’t. “I won’t tell anyone you were here.”

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Sophie smiled. He did know those words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, my school year just began and I've been swamped with work :(   
> I'll try to keep the updates to every week, but it might be shaky so sorry about that!


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